The Captain's Log
by georginacastleorpington
Summary: New Quidditch Captain, Rose Weasley, has one dream for her last year of Hogwarts - To win the Quidditch Cup. But what with her friends dating the opposition and the temptation for her to do the same... There might be more at stake than just a trophy.
1. August 23rd: A birthday gone wrong

"But I learned that there's a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly. If you can sit happy with embarrassment, there's not much else that can really get to ya."  
><strong>Christian Bale<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tuesday 23<strong>__**rd**__** August, the Potter toilet**_

WHY DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN TO ME?

I am like a magnet to all kinds of embarrassing situations. I can't escape them. It is almost as if I had a curse put on me as a young baby that means everything I do will inevitably lead to embarrassment.

I wouldn't mind _so much_ if it weren't for the fact that as soon as I am embarrassed I get the whole Weasley reaction: red ears, red face, red nose, red neck, shortness of breath, inability to stand and _that_ laugh. The awkward 'woops I just embarrassed myself' laugh that I have to whip out whenever a misfortune occurs. Since, you know, I must be positive about my failings. At least, despite all my own suffering, I bring amusement to others.

Only earlier this evening I brought amusement to 'others' that under normal circumstances I would _not_ want to bring amusement to. This would never have happened if Al had not invited all his stupid friends to his house for his birthday party. It was meant to be a FAMILY thing, since he is now 17, which is a big birthday in the magical world.

But he seemed to think that, yes, it would be a _brill_ idea to invite all his Slytherin qudditch mates round but (and this is the worst part), he didn't even WARN me!

I am his best friend! He may say otherwise now that he is all old and stuff, but the reality of it is, we are joined by blood which as we all know by that old muggle saying is '_thicker than water'_, therefore we are like 'blood cousins' without the need for all that blood ceremony nonsense. We have a friendship that can't be broken that easily since we are _related, _and yet that IDIOT didn't even think to warn me.

The evening started just dandy. Me, my brother and my parents bounded in all happiness and smiles and got the customary greeting from each family member, which consist of:

Big hug from Grandma Weasley followed by an exclamation of how much we've grown...despite the fact she saw us last week.

Hug from Grandad Weasley, interrupted since he _painfully_ had a plug in his pocket, "Woops, I forgot I had that in there!"

High five from Uncle George, "Remind me to send you some pranking materials!" Had to remind him, of course, that since I am now Captain of the Quidditch team a lot of responsibility rests on my weary shoulders. This earned me a punch on the arm from my cousin, Fred.

"Shut up," he said, punching me again. "Being a Captain is _brilliant_! You have power!"

"Power that I am NOT going to abuse," I reminded him. Since I am now an example to all the other Quidditch-loving students in the school, I can't go round pranking people!

Hug from Victoire and Dominique, both complained about the fact I wasn't wearing heels.

Teddy ruffled my hair, so I had to excuse myself so I could make sure it hadn't frizzed up in the back of a spoon.

Lily linked her arm in mine and started jabbering on about Darren McLaggen and how she was vverrrryyyy annoyed that her darling brother hadn't invited the love of her life. "I dressed up especially for him as well, look!" She pointed at her feet. "I even shrunk a pair of my mum's designer shoes." Aunty Ginny caught the end of this sentence however and Lily was left barefoot for the rest of the evening.

Uncle Harry just squinted at me. I think James stole his glasses.

James hugged the potted plant standing next to me. "Man! I don't know how my dad sees with these things on!" He turned to look at me, and the lenses had made his eyes appear about six times larger than they actually were. He looked like one of those close up pictures of a fly, but ten times scarier. "Wow...your whole head is red...it's all blurred together."

Eventually managed to escape the madman that is my cousin James and get into the garden. Since the food is always on tables on the patio in the summer, this was most definitely the place to _be_ this fine evening.

It looked great as well, since the patio is right next to the swimming pool and the light from the moon was reflecting off the surface of the water. It was v pretty. I almost felt like writing an uplifting poem.

So there I was, standing at the buffet table, thanking my lucky stars that I was the first one to get there so had dibs over the best quiche, when suddenly I heard this odd squawking noise. For a miniscule second I was a bit worried, because you know, it did sound a little bit like an eagle so for a moment there my slice of quiche was in imminent danger of being plucked from my plate and carried off into the evening sky by a bird of prey.

Luckily, it was only my dorm-mate (and best friend), Natalia Zabini's owl and it was carrying quite a bulky letter – not unusual for Natalia since she does like to write a lot of gibberish in her letters. Anyway, this one was likely to be longer than usual since she had just been on holiday with her father and some of his business partners and their families and there was quite obviously going to be several amusing stories about her travels to the South of France...

...BUT, the _stupid_ bird wasn't going to let me take the letter that easily, so carried on squawking and flying too high up for me to reach it. So I thought, using the mind I inherited from my mother, that I would try lure down the irritating creature with some food.

Of course, I don't know about you, but I am not exactly well versed in what foods owls that sound like eagles like to eat, so I waved a bit of bread near its beak, but it just squawked a bit. Then I grabbed my plate of quiche and thought, 'I may as well sacrifice this piece of lovely quiche for the greater good' and the owl swooped down a little bit so I managed to jump up – being a chaser has made me very athletic – and grab the letter from its leg.

Only, it wasn't too happy about the quiche jumping around everywhere so flapped its wings very frantically causing me to drop the plate, making an almighty clatter so no doubt drew attention to the event to the rest of the Weasley-Potter mob, and then I slipped over and landed slap on my bum.

But it didn't end there. Of course it didn't. Any embarrassment that involves me has to last at least twenty minutes – this is just the way it works.

I finally managed to get myself up and put the letter on the table so that I could start to clean up the plate that I managed to drop, and noticed that a bit of the plate had slid over to the edge of the pool. I went over to pick it up, then CRACK!

Some BUFFOON decided to apparate _exactly_ where I was standing so that BOTH of us ended up tumbling into the swimming pool with such a massive splash that Lily, who had come outside to see what all the noise was about got splashed.

"OH MY GOD!" she shrieked, clutching the hem of her dress in horror. I bobbed about in the water trying to find the idiot that had landed on top of me, whilst simultaneously noticing that Lily only had the tiniest splashmark on her dress.

Err, HELLO? Compare that to ME who is wet all over!

"You have _ruined_ my dress! What am I going to do if Darren turns up now? I have no shoes and I look like I've _wet_ myself!"

Al, who must have just apparated as well, looked at his sister in surprise. "Darren? Darren McLaggen? Why would he be coming?"

"Whose fallen in the pool?" Uncle Harry poked his head round the door. "Oh Rose, I should have known." He started laughing.

SEE. Everyone knows that it is _always_ me that ends up in these ghastly predicaments.

"It's not my fault! Some _idiot _apparated on top of me!" I replied, shivering slightly. Honestly, you'd think that as wizards they would at least know a spell to warm up their pool. Apparently not.

"Not on purpose, _trust me_," came the drawl from behind me. I splashed about in the water attempting to turn around.

I had recognised the voice, but of course I needed to face him so that I could splash water in his face, which was what I had planned on doing since the threat of drowning had died down.

"YOU?" I splashed water up into his face and he blinked rapidly. "Why are you here? You're not family?"

He shook his head like a dog, making water splash into my eye.

"Maybe one day, eh?" he winked.

WINKED. See, first I had this embarrassment of actually falling into a pool. Add to that the entire family is watching me, then add on top of that a sodden Scorpius Malfoy _winking_ at me whilst I am treading water in the deep end of a pool, then _really_...is it any wonder that my face turned as bright red as a fresh tomato?

I splashed him in the face again.

"What was that for?" He demanded icily, his soaking blonde hair having lost any of its excessive product, flopped across his eyes.

"_That_ was for apparating on top of me without looking where you were going," I snapped back.

He scoffed. "How do you _'look where you're going'_ when you're apparating? It's IMPOSSIBLE." He punctuated his last word with a splash in my direction.

"Well you should have done. Honestly, how long have you been legally allowed to apparate? You should _know_ these things!" I splashed right back.

He flicked his head so that his fringe stops dripping in his eye. "I did NOT choose to apparate on top of you! If you want to blame anyone, blame your cousin who told me to apparate next to the pool since he thought no one would be there!"

We both turned to look at Al who was standing next to the edge of the pool with a suspicious looking grin on his face. I turned to Scorpius, and even though neither of us like each other that much, since I think he is an arrogant prat and he has told me on more than one occasion that I am prudish geek, we both made a silent agreement sealed with a soggy nod, that if WE are going to be wet...then so should Al.

We moved to the edge quickly and grabbed an ankle each, yanking him into the water.

He splashed up to the surface and his immediate words were, "I hate you both."

Anyway, thanks to that whole falling in the swimming pool fiasco, I now have the following problems:

a) a private letter to me from my dearest bestie mate, Natalia, is sitting on the buffet table, and there is an entire hoarde of nosy family members nearby it who would love to steal it.

b) my clothes are wet and I tried to do a drying charm on them, but they shrunk so now I have to borrow Al's clothes since Lily has locked herself in her room after the whole 'drop of water on her dress' incident.

c) Al's clothes are ugly and since I am flat chested I now definitely look like a boy. Just with long hair.

d) Scorpius, annoying git, keeps banging on the door to make me hurry up since he needs to get changed too (I shrunk his clothes along with mine and Al's too). Also he is in a right rage since he lost all his hair product in the water, and Al doesn't use any so his head is going to have to go au-naturelle tonight.

I think the last time his hair had zero-product in it was when he came out of the womb.

Al's clothes really are awful. I suppose they look bearable on him, since he is a boy, but they really are not suited for girls at all. At least the jeans fit. Thankfully I left my spare pair here last year and forgot to pick them up, so only have to borrow Al's awful Chudley Cannons t-shirt.

It is orange.

My hair is orange.

Do the maths.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Later, the cupboard under the stairs in the Potter house<strong>_

I do _not_ know how my uncle grew up in one of these cupboards. They are so small! I may only be five foot two, but even I am struggling to fit myself in here.

I have hidden here, in any case, so that I can read my letter in peace. I arrived downstairs a while back just in time to hear several of my relations debating on whether they should have a peek to see at _least_ who the letter I had received was from.

I was all willing to let them know, before I marched off with it to read it in privacy, but then they caught a glimpse of me with an orange t-shirt and orange hair and they started laughing. So I told them that it was a love letter from my fiancé and marched off to read it. At the end of the day, this may work to my disadvantage, but it was worth it to see them recoil in horror.

The letter was pretty standard Natalia. Apparently she is suffering greatly because her twin brother, Nicco, has befriended the son of this diplomat she is holidaying with who apparently goes to Durmstrang and is absurdly good looking, but Nicco caught wind of them liking each other and has decided to divide their love by telling this Durmstrang boy stories of their childhood, like the time Natalia sat on their owl (this may explain the squawking) and the time when she was 5 and she ran around naked in front of the minister for Magic.

I think it is very cruel that Nicco is manipulating them. What if they were true loves and he had stopped them from being together?

But actually, it may be a true test of their one day enduring love, since I think that if that silly Durmstrang boy is put off by silly stories like Natalia jumping round naked at the age of 5, then surely he does not deserve her.

She is a very sweet person and from my excessive reading of muggle romances I have learnt that sweet girls must not date boys that can't deal with a bit of nakedness. End of.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Wednesday 24<strong>__**th**__** August, my bed**_

When I woke up this morning my throat really hurt and my eyes were itchy as hell. So I coughed for a bit, because I thought I might have the start of a cold and everyone knows if you cough you can shift the germs from your lungs and it stops you sneezing or something.

Anyway, all this coughing just made my voice go all croaky and made me unable to talk.

So, when my mother came into my room all joyfully, I was not in a right mind to see her. Unlike me, she had had a lovely time last night socialising with all her lovely school friends from millions of years ago, and unlike me, she didn't FALL IN A POOL.

"Cup of tea, Rosie?" She asked me, not noticing that my eyes were blotchy and red. I noticed this when I looked in the mirror just now. It is horrific. First my hair is ugly and now this.

Then she told me that I should be getting packed for school. Even though it is a week till we start.

So I just croaked a bit in her direction. Even to me it sounded unintelligible, though I knew that I was trying to say something along the lines of 'tea would be lovely, thanks mum'. What came out was more along the lines of, "UURU UMVY, UAK UUM."

At this she put her hand on my head, "You're feeling rather warm, dear. Are you feeling alright?"

Deciding that it was better to signal rather than try to talk again, I shook my head and pouted miserably.

"HUGO!" she shouted. "WILL YOU MAKE YOUR SISTER SOME SOUP?"

Great, now my eardrums are burst. Now I can add that to my list of symptoms.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Later, still in my bed, still dying of unidentified illness<strong>_

On reflection I have decided that it must have been the fall into the pool that has made me deathly ill. Therefore, I can blame that Slytherin dunce for it.

He was clearly trying to sabotage my first week as Captain of the Gryffindor Quiddtich team.

THAT'S IT.

He wants to win the cup this year, so by making me bed-ridden and potentially dying, my team is left without a leader and then he has the opportunity to prance in there with his ugly broom and beat us.

Well, I won't have it.

TO DO:

Pack for school – don't forget socks.

Write letter to St Mungos just to check I am not dying/dead.

Find Captain badge

Remember parchment

Write to Al to tell him his pool is infected

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thursday 25<strong>__**th**__** August, bedridden**_

Ode to the view outside my window

Oh, blue skies why are you hidden,

Behind this cloud.

The wind, it whirls, and swirls the tops of trees,

So birds go fluttering off into the sky.

A solitary pigeon rests on a TV aerial,

And...

HOORAH! AN OWL! I HAVE POST!

_Dear Rose,_

_I tried to visit you the other day but your parents were out and your brother said you were lying in bed dying of a mysterious illness and that Mungo's had put up a lockdown round your house so no one else would get infected. _

_I guessed he was lying, but I was just popping round to give you your present, so I thought I'd come back when your parents were in._

PRESENT! Damn you, Hugo. You stripped me of my holiday presents and all because of my 'fragile state'. Curse my sickly immune system. And my snotty nose. I need another tissue.

_Anyway, I hope you are well! I heard you got Quidditch Captain as well, so CONGRATULATIONS. I'm not too sure who got Head Girl, but I'm a Senior Prefect and as is Natalia's brother, apparently, something which she isn't too happy about._

_Hopefully see you on Sunday in Diagon Alley? I need to get some new Dress Robes so I need your advice. Well, I need Natalia's advice, but you can come along too because I love you so much._

_LOVE ISLA F XXX_

Isla...what a charmer she is. Honestly, I know I wore a hideous t-shirt the other night, but that was through no choice of my own. I really do have more fashion sense than that usually.

I hope I get better in time for school, because although the lessons are a bore, I can't wait to play Quidditch again with _proper_ opponents (Hugo is useless) and I can't wait to see my best friends and dorm-mates, Isla and Natalia, again.

Isla Finnegan is a family friend so I knew her before Hogwarts, since her dad and my parents went to school together, but she lives in the Republic of Ireland so it's hard to get an apparition permit to go over there to visit her, so in the holidays letters are our only communication. As for Natalia, her dad always drags her on these ghastly-sounding holidays with all these families of his colleagues – which makes our camping trips to the New Forest sound delightful.

Either way, I would rather be trapped in the remote wilds of County Killarney or hanging round with Durmstrang students on a fancy yacht, than laying sprawled over my bed at home trying to entertain myself.

At the moment I'm playing makeshift Quidditch...With scrunched up pieces of paper as quaffles and my open window as a hoop...

GOAL! TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR! WOOP WOOP!

NOTE TO SELF: Clean broom.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sunday 28<strong>__**th **__**August, Madame Malkins**_

Oh, my life is misery. Can things get any WORSE?

No, don't answer that. The worst is yet to come.

Malfoy is such a conniving little git.

But, on the bright side...PAHAHAAAA! His plan backfired!

Just bumped into Scorpius Malfoy in Diagon Alley and suffice to say that either he did NOT plot to make me ill so I couldn't coach my team, or his plan was an utter fail, since he was looking even more sickly than I am right now!

To be fair to him, at least his red nose doesn't clash with his hair, but this is the downside of being a Weasley.

Anyway, I saw him standing outside the Quidditch shop and I had to go in anyway because I was planning on buying some new winter gloves with extra grip. I also wanted to check out the new broom that has just been released: The Lightning II.

Phwoar.

That broom is a beauty. It's all sleek twigs, shiny handle and glittering golden lettering. Shame the price tag is the same as a large house, really.

So I went over there and walked past him into the shop, having a quick peek at his VERY red nose as I walked past. He was looking at the broom, and I could tell he was pretty amazed by it too. No true Quidditch lover could _not_ be impressed by the marvellous beauty of this broom, I am telling you.

But anyway, his nose was SERIOUSLY red. Redder than mine, even. I almost felt sorry for the poor boy, since his looks are far more important to him than anyone else I've ever met in the world.

Since I was feeling particularly kindly (will never make the mistake of being kindly again to Malfoy, for future reference), I thought I would go over and strike up conversation about the broom, then he could see my nose and realise that he is not the only Rudolph walking among wizards in Diagon Alley this fine day.

So on my way out, I stopped by the window next to him and gasped admiringly over the broom.

"Oh," he said, looking surprised. "Are you looking at my reflection in the window too?"

After that I decided that he wasn't worthy of my company, but I couldn't just walk away because Al had just clocked us and he would have a go at me later for being 'rude' to one of his friends. Even though his friends are more often than not the ones being rude to ME.

"I wasn't _actually_, I was looking at the broom," I replied, just as Al came up behind us.

"That old thing? My dad's already got hold of the Lightning III for me," he said smugly.

WHAT?

Albus gasped in surprise. "NO WAY! He must have got it directly from the manufacturer! It must have cost a BOMB!"

Hiding my jealousy, I smirked. "All that golden lettering is just going to weigh you down, I'll still beat you on my Cleansweep 13."

He snorted. Well, we both knew that was a lie. If he had a Lightning III (which I wasn't even aware was available for public sale yet) then there was no way I could even come close to beating him. That broom would make me look like I was sitting on a fallen branch which I had levitated into the air.

"Dream _on_. You're going DOWN, Weasley..." He paused dramatically and then grinned rakishly. "Most probably literally."

"Are you implying I'm going to fall off my broom?"

He shrugged. "You are pretty clumsy. However, if you decide to not be clumsy on the day of the Slytherin Gryffindor match, then I'm sure I can order my team to knock you off."

HAHA! Empty threat! He has no power among the Slytherins! The days of Malfoys being the leading men of the world are LONG gone.

"As _if_ they'd listen to you!"

He frowned. "They _have_ to. I'm Captain."

I let out a strangled cry at that point, which was not particularly attractive, on reflection, but what was I supposed to do?

Not only do I have the possibility of Gryffindor winning the House Cup on my shoulders which hasn't happened for Godric knows how many years, but now my biggest rival in the whole school is SCORPIUS MALFOY. Which I wouldn't mind normally, since I could easily beat him in a duel, but he has a Lightning III.

So, basically, we are all doomed.

Is there any point in my going to school any more?

To make matters worse, when I arrived in Madame Malkins to meet up with Natalia and Isla, they immediately shoved me in a changing room because apparently there is some goofy dance coming up at school soon that they completely decided not to tell me about.

Of all the things that I have in this world to worry about like global warming, making sure my socks aren't odd and the fact that my hair is a wild bush, I now have to add the following to the list:

The fact that Malfoy is Slytherin Quidditch Captain and made a passing comment that suggested he was planning to knock me off my broom.

The fact that we have a school dance and that my hair will in no way be in any fit state to be paraded about to the world.

My nose is still red.

TO DO:

Make serious war plans for quidditch team

Learn spells to repel bludgers

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tuesday August 31<strong>__**st**__**, the Weasley abode**_

My mother should know better than to insult Hugo's fashion sense.

"I just think that maybe you should wear a white shirt instead of black."

"Why does it matter? It's under my robes anyway, no one can see it.

"It's just not regulation school uniform."

"So...No one cares any more."

"I CARE, HUGO WEASLEY. And I am your MOTHER."

"I'm not wearing a white shirt."

"YES YOU ARE. RONALD, TELL HIM!"

"Your mother is probably right, Hughie, you might get into trouble." PAH! As if my father cares about that nonsense. He just doesn't want to cross mum!

"I'll be the laughing stock if I don't wear black. _Everyone _wears black now!" They don't. Only Hugo and his strange goth-like friends who like to dress up as Vampires on Halloween and read the Quibbler every week wear black shirts.

Everyone else wears normal regular white shirts.

"Your sister doesn't!"

"My sister is a freak! She doesn't even know who _The Forbidden Trio Of Darkness_ are!" The silence that follows suggests that neither do my parents. "THEY'RE A BAND! MERLIN! I grow up in a house of _freaks_!"

"You're grounded Hugo!"

"MUM!"

Who needs Marvin the Madd Muggle comics when you have quality entertainment like this to liven up your life.

NOTE TO SELF: Need to decide whether or not to paint nails for journey tomorrow. If I am wearing flip flops they need painting.

Oop... Looks like its raining. I'll wear my trainers and skip the paint.

Hoorah! This saves on time.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Wednesday September 1<strong>__**st**__**, the Hogwarts Express – CAPTAINS CABIN!**_

I am going UP in the world!

As a quidditch captain I get my own cabin!

Only downside...I have to share with all the other Captains. Which of course means Lorcan Scamander – generally an alright bloke, but barely speaks a word, Darren McLaggen – Godric knows why this idiot is a Ravenclaw and, of course, the biggest prat you will ever meet.

Scorpius Malfoy.

It is painful to thing that I am the only female captain really. Let's face it, there are quite a few female quidditch players on the house teams, but for some reason I am the only one that is picked as a Captain. This is very mysterious.

Perhaps I have some unknown leadership quality that the school's management has seen in me and they have decided to give me a shot... Perhaps I am cut out to one day be Minister for Magic.

Who knows...

Oh. Wait.

I am the only female seventh year Quidditch player. That would explain it.

Never mind, at least I am the only Potter/Weasley Captain this year. Last year we had two – Fred for Hufflepuff and James for Gryffindor.

It was horrific. The match was bloodthirsty.

Mind you, I think it may be even more bloodthirsty with myself and grumpy guts over there.

"What are you doing?" I ask him nicely. I have decided to be polite and engage in lovely conversation to show that I am a mature sensible being worthy of being in a role of responsibility, despite my history of getting into trouble.

"Why are you so interested?" he snaps back.

I do not deem this response worthy of a polite reply. Please excuse me while I converse with him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Later, still in the Captain's compartment<strong>_

So, as we remember, I was being very polite and asked him what he was doing, then he practically _growled_ at me: "Why are you so interested?"

I thought this was a very rude reply to what I had considered a perfectly respectable question, and so did McLaggen since he threw me a rather surprised and apologetic look.

He may be rather dense, but that boy KNOWS how to be nice to a lady.

Perhaps he is alright for Lily, I shall observe the matter more closely and decide in due course.

"I'm not, really. I just thought I would try be friendly."

He smirked and looked a little disbelieving. "_Now_? You decide to start being friendly NOW in our last year of Hogwarts?"

I don't see what is so shocking about this. I mean, I know we have not been friendly before now, but we have never really crossed paths enough to want to.

Admittedly, Al has been on my back about it for the past couple of years, saying that I should try harder with him since he wants his two best friends to be friends too, but it's not just ME who carries on this animosity!

For fear of sounding like a child:

HE STARTED IT!

In first year, he _started _it.

So I don't see how I can really be blamed for continuing it, when really I had no choice. If I had attempted to be nice in first year or whatever, I doubt he'd have taken me seriously and most likely he would have just laughed at me.

And yet NOW, he is annoyed that I'm waiting until _now_ to extend the polite hand of friendship.

Not that I am sure I am really doing that. I just don't want him to knock me off my broom.

"There comes a time, _Scorpius_," I said his first name with emphasis. I'm making a point seeing as all these years we've just referred to each other with our last names. "When we have to be adult about these things." I paused. "And this is me, being adult."

He raised his left eyebrow in scepticism. "Adult?"

I coughed. "Yes. It's what we call that phase of life in between grumpy teenager and withered old biddy." I straightened out my shirt. "But it _seems_ that you are still firmly stuck in your 'grumpy' years."

"Grumpy?" He snorted and then grinned this kind of sneaky Slytherin smirky-grin.

You know which one I mean, the one they always use just as their about to say something that they construe as particularly witty.

"Are you sure this isn't about something else, Weasley?" He shrugged. "Like, I don't know, your worry that I'm going to tell my team to knock you off your broom."

McLaggen's ears perked up at this and he looks between Malfoy and myself with a look that I think may have been shock. It is hard to tell with him. However, he chose the moment to stand up and depart from the room with his only chosen words being, "I have to go somewhere."

Perhaps he thought we were going to have one of our legendary fourth year fights?

You see, there was this _phase_ in fourth year, and I'm not even sure how it came about but it involved a lot of very verbal fights in corridors about, now that I think about it, pointless things. We were quite dorky now that I think about it... arguing about the politics of the Ministry, and whether the Chudley Cannons were going to the relegated.

These fights often descended into a light bit of hexing.

I say 'light' since we only ended up in the hospital wing a couple of times.

But, Darren must have thought we were going to have a bit of a hexing battle, especially since Malfoy had been implying a bit of bodily harm, and with no Scamander to back him up he decided to scarper. A wise move indeed.

"Knock me off my broom, eh? You try, Malfoy, I'll order my team to snap your fancy new broom in half." Internally I started feeling a bit jealous again at the fact that he had such a fantastic broom.

And also a bit worried. Since there was no way we stood a chance against him now, at all.

If he's the Keeper and he's on that broom we won't be able to get a single quaffle past him. We're going to have to seriously train this year.

"You're mad, Weasley," Malfoy said, shaking his head.

"ME? I'm mad? I'm not the one threatening to knock someone off their broom for _no reason whatsoever_." I thought this was a perfectly valid observation.

So much for trying to be friendly.

I give up. We shall just fight like cat and dog for the rest of the year, just like we have since forever.

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, looking slightly more serious. "I wouldn't say it was no reason whatsoever."

PAH! I knew it! He _is_ trying to cause me bodily harm so that I can't lead my team into victory!

And... to think I was going to let him off because he had a _snuffily nose_ and I _felt sorry for him_.

That was the last time I will be so weak.

From now on I shall be strong and not have him pull on my heartstrings by looking all forlorn and ill. Especially when he is only checking himself out in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"What reason do you have then for such violence?" I demand.

"Oh come _on_, Weasley," he groaned. He was looking thoroughly annoyed by the argument and actually I was quite shocked.

Usually, he has this air where you can tell that even though he has this appearance of getting angry, he's actually secretly laughing at the fact that I am getting annoyed. _That_ is the thing, more than anything else, that annoys me about him.

And yet, this time, he genuinely looks a little frustrated.

"Come _on_. You have to know that you're the best bloody player on that team. No offence, but if you're team loses you then it's a lost cause."

I was gobsmacked.

Literally, I sat there looking like I was trying to catch flies with my jaw dropped, practically scraping along the dirty compartment floor.

Was that...Was that a _COMPLIMENT?_

"I would never plot to chuck you off your broom, but you have to know that if we want to win it's you we have to get past. You're the only chaser in the damn school who can get a goal past me when I'm on form." He stopped and his eyes bored into me. For a tiny split second I saw what every other admiring teenage girl in the school saw when he looked at them.

Those eyes.

"The _only_ one."

Then he left.

It was very dramatic really. Of course, it would have probably been far more dramatic had I gone running after him akin to some girl in a teenage romance novel, but even so. And it was only once he had left and I was sitting in the compartment on my own, that I realised that that was the first time that I'd ever been on my _own_ with him before.

You would have thought that in seven years we would have had an argument without anyone else there before, but we just hadn't. There was always someone there: usually Natalia or Isla and most often Al.

I just thought it was strange that the one time we had been alone was the one time he was different.

Maybe there's more to that boy than meets the eye.

NOTE TO SELF: consult Al about Malfoy.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please let me know what you think! I'm really thinking of continuing this and making it a beast of a multi-chaptered fic, so I would be glad for any constructive criticism you have now to help me on my way. **

**The writing style, by the way, it courtesy of Meg Cabot in the Princess Diaries. I was having a read through the other day and was really inspired because I like the way her diary format really gives a voice to the character...I hope it's working!**

**Thanks for reading! Until next time...**

**Gco.**


	2. September 2nd: A quidditch affair

"I've always wanted to be a spy, and quite frankly I'm a little surprised that the British Intelligence has never approached me."

**Elizabeth Hurley**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thursday September 2<strong>__**nd **__**, First lesson: Charms**_

**Natalia Zabini's List of Hogwarts Hottest Guys**

(Compiled during a particularly boring Charms lesson. In fact, the first lesson of the year. We are such good students. And with added commentary from ROSE WEASLEY, feel free to applaud...)

**1) Darren McLaggen – This boy may be as thick as the Whomping Willow but how can you resist those deep blue eyes and that **_**smile**_**.** (Agree...to an extent. Is fine as a bit of eye candy on the Quidditch pitch but not suitable Bring-Home-To-Daddy-Weasley material. Not that anyone in the world really is.)

**2) Albus Potter – One word for you luvvie: Mmmmmmmmmmmm **(Errlack. No comment.)

**3) Louis Weasley – THIS IS WHY VEELAS SHOULD HAVE BABY BOYS. **(Urm. Stop picking my relations since I cannot give commentary on the matter. SO yes, STOP. Pick someone NORMAL and actually NOT RELATED to me. Thank you.)

**4) Scorpius Malfoy – He's like a blonde Mr Darcy...so mysterious... As for his chest – well, I hear from first party viewers that he has quite the muscular shindig going on. And a girl cannot turn that sort of bod down, especially with scrawny lads like Theo Davies roaming around.** (Blonde Mr Darcy? WHAT? He is so not mysterious. He just smirks. All the time. Mr Darcy doesn't _smirk_. Mr Darcy is sultry and suave and has a gaze that fixes you to the floor and makes you want to dance with him at the Netherfield ball. Malfoy portrays none of these things.)

(However, am another first party viewer of six pack – courtesy of Al having him round for his birthday sleepover when we were 15 – and it had the _potential_ to be fit. Several years have passed however, so will let this one slide.)

**5) Professor Longbottom – He may be a bit old, but the way he wears his cardigan all buttoned up... **(AGREE. He is the only man I know that can pull off the cardy and shirt look and _still_ look manly. But never mention this to my parents.) **(Yeah. Ditto. My dad would murder me AND Professor L.)**

**6) Lorcan Scamander – Not traditionally good looking, but rocks the attractive nerd look. **(I think you mean Lysander, Lorcan is the fit Quidditch one.)

**NEW 6) Lysander Scamander – see above. **(Pah. Too girly.)

**7) Lorcan Scamander – GOD. GREEK GOD. **(MARRY ME LORCAN).

**8)The guy who taught us apparition last year, such understated good looks. **(Sometimes I worry about you. He was at _least_ six times your age.)

**9)Nicco Zabini – only because he is my twin and looks like me, therefore if I am to be considered gorgie-pie, he must too. **(I prefer you.) **(Good answer)**

**10) –**

_Are you actually going to listen to this lesson? You know, what we're being taught now might come up in our NEWTs. And if you're making another 'HOT BOY' list then STOP. You make one every year. – Isla_

_Ps. I hope Professor Longbottom is on the list or I will be VERY disappointed. Tee hee._

Such a sneaky little girl.

But I see the charms of Longbottom are not wasted on her. There is hope for her yet.

TO DO:

Copy charms notes off Isla

Captain badge?

* * *

><p><em><strong>Later, Potions<strong>_

There is something mysterious going on with Malfoy and I am determined to know what it is. And don't even ask me why I'm so interested in the matter.

In fact, why shouldn't I be interested in the matter?

He _is _my cousin's best friend after all and I would be a pretty rotten cousin if I just left him to wallow around in loneliness whilst his mysterious Slytherin-to-the-core-and-therefore-very-sneaky best friend darts off being all mysterious.

Maybe there is something in Natalia's Mr Darcy theory. Except for the whole Netherfield dancing situation.

So you see, that is the only reason that I am interested in why Malfoy is being so downright bizarre. Okay, I may be slightly puzzled as to why he actually mumbled something that to an untrained ear may have _sort of_ sounded like a compliment to ME of all people on the train yesterday.

But really, that was just a sign of his strange habits manifesting itself in a very, _very_ bizarre way.

Besides, that is not the only incident that has occurred thus far today that could be considered a mark of some deteriorating health condition. Perhaps some kind of brain disease, or maybe a curse that causes madness and strange tempers. Whatever the case I am determined to get to the bottom of it.

For my cousin. Al. Since he actually resorted to sitting next to me in Potions today, something which he has not done since about second year when him and Malfoy became the most severely joined-at-the-hip bum-chums.

Things that Malfoy has done/said today that may be a sign of an underlying medical condition/madness

_1) When Yasmin Jones wriggled her rather unpleasant 'seductive face' in his face whilst waiting in the hallway for Potions he told her to "go away because he was thinking and she was disrupting it". On another note, it is quite strange for Yasmin to be in our hallway in the first place since I wasn't aware she passed the test to do Potions to Advanced Level. Never mind. I must focus on the idiot at hand._

This is very bizarre.

Under normal circumstances they would have (cue vomiting attack) started groping and molesting each other in plain view of the public. That or started up the most flirting conversation that I can assure you, you will ever have heard in your life, filled with so many innuendos that you will want to drown yourself in your Yawning Draught once you actually get into the lesson.

But no. No snogging.

Not that I am complaining, it is sickening. It is not a nice sight to see on the first day back at school, particularly when you are still recovering from an debilitating illness that left you bedridden for a week as I am.

Al thought this development was strange as well, and this is what made me cotton on to the fact that his best friend is acting strange.

You see, had he made a pact at the beginning of the year (or similar) to try and draw his disgusting teenage hormones away from the darling females of the upper school, then Al, as his best friend and self confessed side-kick and companion through thick and thin, would surely have been let into this secret. He would _not_ have left him in the dark, because that is not what friends do.

Thus, he must have been concealing something.

God knows what.

_2) He chose to sit alone in Potions, telling Al that he could "Sit with his cousin for once, he'd be fine on his own."_

First off, Malfoy is one of those people who is _never _alone in a class.

Not that I don't believe him that he would be fine on his own or anything, because let's face it, the boy is practically a genius. My mother would be _proud_ to have him as a son, he is that clever. I don't even know if he works for his brains, and that is the most aggravating thing about it.

But seriously, if he wanted to work on his own then I'm sure he'd _still_ get top marks, even though Al is also a bit of brainbox and can actually be rather useful at times.

So, basically, although I'm sure he would cope just fine being a loner in every class (not just Potions) he just never is. He always sits next to someone.

Usually Al so that they can gossip (they are worse than old ladies at times) but occasionally the odd girl that he wishes to take to Hogsmeade. Or worse.

This makes it very clear: he is mad.

Why, after all these years and the beautiful friendship that he and my cousin share, would he just up and tell him that he's quite happy to work alone and that he could sit with me?

Either he's plotting to make some kind of potion and doesn't want Al to know about it, or he just wants to be alone.

But when has Malfoy ever wanted to be alone?

He is like a social butterfly.

Fluttering from one person to another, but _never_ on his own. Didn't I say that the first time I had ever been on my own with him was yesterday on the train?

It is very peculiar.

_3) He HADN'T DONE THE SUMMER HOMEWORK._

Nor had I for that matter.

But _he_ hadn't. He ALWAYS hands in his homework. Always.

So why has he suddenly forgotten now?

It just gets embarrassing when _**I**_ the daughter of _**Hermione Granger**_ the cleverest witch of all time (or whatever) is constantly showed up in class. I stick by my laurels when I say that I believe I descend from my dearest father.

No work ethic. This is what I mean.

But that will all change this year I promise I will work. _Work, work, work_.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, yeah. He hadn't done the homework, or at least that was what we all thought since when Professor Danes came round to collect it he reached Malfoy's table and held out his hand and there was just _no_ parchment being handed to him.

And that _never_ happens. We were all in shock. Jaws dropping to the floor and all that jazz.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't get round to do it," Malfoy had said. And that was _it_. He didn't even try to get round it or make up some lame-arse excuse like I usually do along the lines of _Sorry sir, it was eaten by my pet dragon and I had written so much that I just couldn't bring myself to re-write it_.

It was just 'I didn't get round to it'.

Professor Danes of course let him off, just this once, since Malfoy is such a suck-up usually that one piece of homework missing hardly qualifies him to have three months detention and a permanent record on the matter.

But five minutes later I was walking past his desk to head to the store room and I saw a bit of parchment poking out of his bag titled: _Potions, Summer Work: The Art of Improvisation in Advanced Potion Making_.

And there was writing beneath it. He had _done_ the work, but he just wasn't handing it in.

WHY? _WHY?_

If you actually _do_ the work, then why would you not hand it in? You have so much to gain: good grades, the teacher's respect, the jealousy of Hermione Granger's daughter...

Why would you pass up such an opportunity!

So there.

That is why he is utterly mad. Bonkers mad.

Homework: 

**Potions: **write an essay about pg 10 of textbook

**Charms:** wasn't listening. Must ask Isla.

What a lark! No more lessons today!

Hoorah for being a seventh year! Hip hip HOORAY!

* * *

><p><em><strong>Even later (but only mid-afternoon), Sitting on tree outside Greenhouse four<strong>_

Ode to Professor Longbottom's Cardigan

Oh, ye of the cardigan, what beauty I see,

Yonder in this greenhouse from this marvellous tree,

A button adorning a knitted cardy,

Upon such a handsome Prof of Herbology.

(_Hoorah for rhyming...but I think I am losing my touch. My literary-ness has gone downhill since being reunited with Longbottom's cardigan this term. Oh woe!)_

_**Later still, sitting underneath tree now with Natalia**_

Natalia and I are growing very suspicious.

To start with we have witnessed, not _one_ but _two_ suspicious persons heading down to the Quidditch pitch this afternoon.

The first is Isla. Our dear, dear friend Isla Finnegan was seen by our spy eyes not four minutes ago marching down to the Quidditch pitch. Now you may not think that this is suspicious so let me remind you: Isla _hates_ Quidditch.

She doesn't play it.

She hates to watch it. But we make her anyway since I am team Captain now and have been on the team since fourth year. Also I have assured her that she is my lucky charm and that if she does not come down to the pitch to watch me then I shall lose.

This, of course, is strange in itself.

Why would Isla go down to a Quidditch pitch?

If she does not play the beautiful game and there is no game that I am playing in for her to watch, then she has no possible motive for going down there.

Even worse...She is meant to be in a lesson right now! She has double divination straight after lunch and since she has never missed a single lesson in her entire school life before, there is no reason to believe that her missing one now is entirely innocent.

Add to this sighting, the _yet stranger_ sight of _Malfoy _walking down to the pitch WITHOUT A BROOM and looking very angry (he threw a rock at the Giant Squid, and that is a sign of anger if I ever saw one). Then there is only one conclusion that one can draw.

"Natalia," I said, when we witnessed Malfoy chucking a rock into the lake then strolling determinedly over to the Quidditch pitch. "I am growing very ill at ease."

Natalia turned to look at me, all wide eyes and equal expression of confusion. "I suppose you are thinking what I am thinking." She said, in her usual manner of being rather vague about the matter.

Though, it appeared that we were both thinking what the other was thinking, and frankly it wasn't a very pleasant though to be thinking of at all.

"It depends what you are thinking."

"I am thinking," she said, lowering her voice. Not that anyone else would have been able to hear us as the rest of the school were either in lessons or sitting in the library or the kitchens (if they were a seventh or sixth year). "That we have just witnessed Isla walking towards the Quidditch pitch."

I nodded solemnly.

"Which is very odd. Followed by Malfoy, which is less odd, but still. What if the two are _related_?"

For a second I thought she had implied that the two of them were _literally related_. As in brother and sister. Or cousins.

But then the less stupid part of my brain realised what Natalia was trying to say.

_What if_ they had both gone down to the pitch to _meet up_?

What if they were actually have a _secret and passionate love affair?_

I mean, it seemed unlikely to me at the time, but then the more I thought about it the more it became more and more possible. To start with, Malfoy had been acting very strange and Isla was skipping lessons and she wouldn't just do that for _anyone_.

Hell, I don't even know if she would miss a lesson for Natalia and I and we are her bestest friends in the whole wide world.

Therefore she would only skip it for her true love. She is a firm believer in all this 'true love' codswallop.

As for Malfoy...Well, it certainly explains his reluctance to play tonsil hockey with Yasmin this morning. If he is secretly in love with Isla and is planning on having little half-irish-half-snobby-englishman babies with her, then of _course_ he wouldn't want to be going round snogging Yasmin Jones! Especially not in front of me, because I may relate the tale to Isla then she would be heartbroken.

I shrugged. "It is possible."

"Of course it's possible, but the question is _why _would she not tell us about this?" Natalia asked, looking very confused. But also very excited. A strange combination, but not one that is foreign to Natalia's over excited mind. "I can't believe our little Isla has a _boyfriend_!"

Then she let out the most awful squeal and clapped her hands together in happiness.

I felt that it was my duty to inform her of the fact that she appeared to have forgotten in all her excitement.

I mean, yes, Isla may potentially have a boyfriend which is brilliant and long overdue since she is such a stunner. But, err HELLO.

MALFOY?

_MALFOY!_

Of _all_ the people in the school she had to pick to have her secret clandestine affair with, it just _had_ to be MALFOY?

I hit Natalia on the arm. "Get some perspective, Natty. This is _Malfoy_ we're talking about!"

"So?"

_So!_

"So...It's MALFOY."

She raised her eyebrows. "I _know_ it's Malfoy. But what's the problem? Sure he can be a prat at times, and maybe he is a little...promiscuous but surely he'll have put that all behind him now that he and Isla are going to make beautiful babies together."

She grinned inanely.

"_Exactly_," I said with hushed panic. "Exactly. Once a man-slut always a man-slut! What if he cheats on her and breaks her fragile heart! We'll be there to pick up the pieces and she might be forever broken and lose her faith in men!"

Natalia looked to be contemplating the thought for a moment or two.

"There's only one thing for it," she said, in a tone that implied she was ready to get off her bum and get into action for Merlin knows what crazy scheme she was currently planning in her head. "We're going to have to spy on them."

"But..._but_!" I exclaimed as she stood up and dusted her robes down from the bits of dead leaves and grass. She turned to look at me. "What if they _are_ having an affair? I don't want to watch it."

"Well if they are having an affair, then we will notice that from afar and run for it."

"And if they're not?"

"Then we can sneak into the kitchens and get some food. I am _famished_ after that horror of a Care of Magical Creatures lesson I just had."

And that is that. Now we are off to the Quidditch pitch to catch them in the act.

I can't help feeling that I don't _want_ to catch them in the act. Purely for my mental health and state of sanity. Who really wants to see their best friend getting physical with one of the biggest idiots you have ever met in your life?

Precisely, no one.

But if they really _are_ going out, then there is nothing else to it than to threaten Malfoy. Something which I shall no doubt enjoy immensely.

I must say it is a relief that Malfoy may be having an affair. Now I no longer need to worry about why he didn't sit next to Albus this morning in Potions and why he didn't hand in his homework.

Clearly the madness of being in love has got to him and he is doing crazy things. He is blinded by his emotion...Which is quite endearing now that I think about it.

Even so.

PLEASE GODRIC DON'T LET THEM BE SNOGGING.

Tips on being stealthy – a quick reminder from Natalia

DON'T make a lot of noise.

DON'T stand in obvious places, eg. Middle of Quidditch pitch.

DO try to remain unseen and unheard.

DO try to be very observant of your surroundings so that you can tell whether someone is approaching and are able to capture lots of information about the people that you are observing.

I get the feeling, worryingly, that Natalia does this a lot.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Even later later, the Quidditch pitch hiding behind stands<strong>_

There is no one here. The mystery deepens.

Never mind, now is the time for me to embrace my new-found inner know-it-all. I am going to go do the Charms homework that we were set earlier on.

Well, first I will go find someone in our class to ask them what the homework _was_ and THEN I will do the homework. My mother would be so proud of me.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Even later, The library<strong>_

What does this even _mean_?

Are we actually supposed to know about this stuff! Do the Professors not comprehend that maybe some of us have more important things in life to be doing (for example, making a list of all the attractive lads in Hogwarts) rather than listening to them lecture on at us every lesson?

Essay: Describe and explain the limitations to the Fidelius Charm  
>2ft of parchment – Due date Monday September 6<span>th<span>

A 2ft essay!

On the _first day_ back!

Some people are just too cruel. They are heartless beings and they have no respect for those of us still recovering from ghastly illnesses contracted from falling in swimming pools.

I must do this essay though, since unlike some people I cannot do homework and then not hand it in and get away with it. If I don't hand in homework then the Profs are not just going to let me off. Except Professor Longbottom might if I compliment his cardigan. Unlike _some people_ I can't just GET AWAY with anything.

It is beyond all madness that I have ever seen before, that someone would not hand in homework when they have quite clearly done it. Especially if they are someone who has never voluntarily missed a homework deadline in their life before, despite what you might think with his air of being above all the school rules.

Argh.

I need to do this essay!

_**Later later later, still in the library**_

Even though this whole secret-love-affair with Isla and Malfoy is a little _bizarre_. Okay, a LOT bizarre. There are some good things that may come out of it, as far as I can see.

The first is that Isla may become less inclined to follow the rules as diligently as she has done in the past. After all, you skip a lesson once and you never go back. I am not, of course, saying that she is anywhere near close to becoming a delinquent, but with a bit of rule-breaking behind her she may agree more happily to Natalia and my more frequent needs to go against the Hogwarts Rule Book Edition 9.

That or we can use her rule-breaking as bribery.

Either way it implies a significant amount of freedom. Hoorah!

The second is that Al now has opportunity to hang out with me without having to drag his horror of a best mate along. All these years that Al has been in Slytherin it has made it harder and harder for us to hang out and plot pranks and make up Quidditch moves as we used to do since he always had his tag-along mates, and I always had _my_ tag along mates.

Fortunately, with Isla and Malfoy probably off procreating, and Natalia busy...actually I'm not sure where she is but I am sure food is somehow involved. But with all this loss of friends, we have no choice but to sit in the library together and be stupid, something I have missed.

I mean, Louis tagged along too, but he is fast becoming my second favourite cousin so I was quite happy to let him sit with us.

And not only were we displaying the beautiful Weasley bond, we were also showing all the poxy little first years the beauty of inter-house relations as we are all from different houses.

Anyway, our gathering got steadily more interesting when the conversation switched rather quickly from the Quidditch Premier League to Al confessing that he and Malfoy had had an _argument_.

This is rather news-worthy stuff.

Those two have _never_ argued, as far as I am aware.

Actually, there was that time they had a little tiff about who got to ask Rachel King to the Christmas party in fourth year, but that only lasted about half an hour then they were back to skipping round the castle and casting permanent wedgie charms on first year Hufflepuffs.

"What about?" Louis asked. I could tell he was just as intrigued as I was, because let's face it, we are Weasley's and therefore it is our prerogative to be nosy. "A girl?"

"Pah! As if they'd argue about a girl. It's _obviously_ about Quidditch," I told him. Since it was quite obvious. I mean, yes, they argued over a girl that one time, but if they are getting so worked up about something then surely it must be something to do with Quidditch.

It always is with men.

Bah. MEN!

"It doesn't matter...It just..." He stopped for a moment and put his quill down. "Nah, it doesn't matter." He said shaking his head and picking his quill back up again.

Me and Louis exchanged a look that told each other to never give up and continue trying to get it out of him. We know what is best for this boy and he needs to get his rage off his chest.

"Well, if it doesn't matter, then whatever." I said, trying to appear nonchalant.

Actually, I am quite convinced that I came across as _very_ nonchalant. I am a very good actress when I want to be you know.

So there I was looking all nonchalant, and Louis was looking nonchalant too (however, that was his usual face so I cannot remark on his acting abilities here) and I could just tell that Al was slightly concerned that we, as true nosy Weasleys, were not pressing the matter further.

He was _itching_ to tell us why.

"He lied to me."

"For Merlin's sake, Al. Could you sound more like you two are _married_?" Louis remarked, rolling his eyes dramatically. Perhaps there is a thespian lying deep down inside that boy.

Perhaps.

There is a reason he is nearly my favourite cousin after all.

"Oy!" Al complained. "It was about Quidditch!"

As if that would explain it all!

_Quidditch_!

"Let me get this straight," I inputted. I plopped my quill down on the beginnings of my charms essay. Alright, the title of my charms essay since that was as far as I had got in however many hours I'd been there. I am just not cut out for all this working malarkey. "He _lied_ to you about _Quidditch_ and now you are not talking to him."

Al paused for a second before nodding vigorously. "Yes."

BOY does this Slytherin have PROBLEMS!

Now, I will be the first one to admit that Quidditch is _crucial_ to live a happy and fulfilled life, but really there is no need to argue about it. Unless someone insults the Chudley Cannons chances in the league, because you know that is just _rude_. Boys are so stupid sometimes.

"You should be angry too. He lied to you as well," Al piped up, thrusting his quill angrily in my direction. He seemed to believe this was a very dramatic way of phrasing it, complete with action and then returned to his essay without another look towards either Louis or I.

And no matter how hard we tried we couldn't get him to talk for the rest of the evening.

This is ridiculous.

What on earth could have happened that is Quidditch related, when the Premier League season hasn't started yet and not a single game has been played at Hogwarts to merit such an argument?

So many utter mysteries to solve, and so little time!

Mystery #1) Why Malfoy didn't hand in homework that he had completed.

Mystery #2) Secret quidditch pitch rendezvous between Malfoy and Isla.

Mystery #3) Argument between Malfoy and Al that may spell end of their friendship.

Now that I think about it, all the mysteries involve Malfoy.

What a mystery.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks to anyone who reviewed, I really appreciate it :) Anyway, you know the drill, if you have any constructive criticism or any ideas you want to share please let me know, and also if you just want to let me know what you thought. :)**

**Gco. **


	3. September 3rd: An interesting argument

Sometimes I lie awake at night, and I ask, "Where have I gone wrong?" Then a voice says to me, "This is going to take more than one night."

****Charles Schulz****

* * *

><p><em><strong>Friday 3<strong>__**rd**__** September, very early, 7**__**th**__** year Gryffindor Girl's dormitory**_

THINGS TO DO:

1) CHARMS ESSAY. Must also learn to stop getting distracted by relations. They will be the death of me.2) Clean broomstick in time for training session tonight. Extra mud on broom will weigh me down. 3) PLAN training session to prepare for total bollocking we will get against Hufflepuff if we are _unprepared_ .4) Stop panicking about pressure of being Captain.5) Find captain badge.

* * *

><p><em><strong>A bit later, by the lake<strong>_

Aarughhh...

Breathe...

Uuuuuuuuuuuh.

Can't..._breattthhhhheeeeeeeeeee_...

* * *

><p><em><strong>A little bit later, still by the lake<strong>_

I think it is safe to say that my distinct lack of exercise over the summer months has left me completely devoid of any physical abilities and/or prowess when it comes to running. An attempt at running a lap of the lake resulted in a steady jog to Hagrid's hut (which, in case you have forgotten, is equivalent to about one twentieth of the distance around the whole lake) before a half-walk-half-stumbling-jog over to the willow tree at the edge of the lake.

Then I collapsed.

At least I have had the opportunity to embrace the beautiful fresh air outside after being cooped up for so long with my deathly and most probably fatal swimming pool illness.

Other than that, it was pretty pathetic. Really, what hope do we have for winning the Quidditch Cup this year if the _captain_ can't even run to Hagrid's hut without needing to collapse in exhaustion?

Mind you, that is probably saying more than the rest of my team who are currently lying in their beds sleeping or, perhaps, the more energetic of them have actually managed to drag themselves out their four poster and down to the hall and are no doubt _eating breakfast_.

Fear not they shall pay later.

I will make them do laps.

Mwah ha! This power thing is _brilliant_! I could get used to this.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Later, Potions<strong>_

Well, that sense of empowerment lasted all of three minutes. And there I was, finally getting into my element. Finally getting the impression that maybe I was _born_ to be a Quidditch captain and that I had the strength and fortitude to lead my team with might and wisdom.

All my might and wisdom was nothing for the general hilarity that accompanied my suggestion to actually start training _tonight_.

I can understand that there may be some doubts as to my methods, after all no other team has started training yet, and Gryffindor don't usually start till well into the third week of term. But, you know, this is WAR and we need to start early if we want any chance of winning the cup.

Especially with Malfoy and his band of Lightning III carriers darting about the pitch. If we're not careful, the Slytherins are going to swoop onto the pitch on their _bloody_ brooms and soar to an easy victory.

I. Will. Not. Have. That.

But knowing the general laziness of my team when it comes to Quidditch practice (and in fact, anything) I decided to approach the matter delicately, so as not to cause alarm.

I didn't want to just thrust the training plan that I had been working so hard on up their nostrils, scream a jaunty "UP AND AT 'EM" and get them training straight away. I needed to gently lure them into a false sense of security so that I could get the whole team down the pitch easily and without any immobility charms or arguments and then the real training could begin.

So after my hearty jog that had left me red-faced, gasping for air and genuinely considering the possibility of my airways collapsing with the pressure I had put them under, I had a shower and then jauntily meandered down to the Great Hall where I gathered the majority of the team would be up having breakfast.

I should have known that, of course, my idiot beaters (Jonah and Joe - or 'double-J' as they are affectionately known being the dynamically idiotic duo that they are) wouldn't be there as they have never been on time for anything ever in their lives. And certainly not breakfast.

They spend more time throwing chairs off towers and hiding in suits of armour than they do anything else.

But they know how to use a club to hit a bludger at anyone wearing green, so I can't really complain.

Thankfully, when I reached the Great Hall I discovered, to my immense joy and pride that the _entire_ team was there. And they were all, aside from Michael the keeper, sitting together. Which was ideal as it would meant that I would only have to say it once.

So I stopped at their bit of the table and announced, "Quidditch practice tonight at 7."

Michael started laughing straight away. "You're funny!"

Clearly, he thought I was joking. JOKING. Why would someone, like me, joke about something as serious as preparing our team for the onslaught that will be our future matches this year?

The Hufflepuff match is in three weeks!

I gave him a very reproachful look, and Joe looked up from his bacon and eggs. "What? You're not kidding?"

Excellent work, Sherlock.

"Of course I'm not kidding! We need to get training. Also, we've lost a chaser so I'm going to hold try-outs next week so I'll need you there for that, Michael," I informed them all. I must say, I felt very powerful being able to give these orders.

Even though it was rather blatantly obvious that they weren't listening to a single word that I was saying.

I say blatantly obvious, because Joe had snorted, _SNORTED_, into his bacon and eggs and carried on eating. And Michael had cracked up laughing again.

I don't know what it is. I just don't have that authoritative air that inspires people to listen to and follow my orders.

"Come on, Rose, the match isn't for another-" Michael began.

"Three weeks!" I reminded him, since he had clearly forgotten what with all this snorting and laughing going on. "Three. And may I remind you that Slytherin have the added bonus of a Lightning III in the hands of their seeker."

This caught their attention.

I was very chuffed, I might add. Even though I had told a massive fib. But I mean, keeper and seeker? Practically the same word. I mean…they rhyme…?

And thankfully the laughing and snorting stopped. Because _really,_ who can laugh and snort when there are more serious things in life to be worrying about. Like the fact that Slytherin are guaranteed to thrash us, so our only hope of winning the cup is to win the other two matches and then pray that they lose their other two.

Which, really, doesn't give us too high odds.

_BUT_, if our chasers are top notch and our seeker is skilled enough to not get bulldozed by a bludger, then we _might_ stand a chance against them.

Unfortunately for my gawping team-mates that were sitting in front of me, paralysed by shock, this actually meant that we were going to have to get down to some serious training. And pronto.

I felt slightly bad that I had lied, but really I was doing it for their benefit. I was inspiring them to get off their breakfast-munching bums and embrace the world of hard graft and match-winning that we had missed out on by a mile last year.

"A lightning III!" Michael gulped in horror.

Luke, the other chaser apart from me, spluttered on his orange juice. "The seeker?"

The silence that fell over the table was ominous. Each person was evidently thinking of the embarrassment of losing ALL our matches like we did last year.

"So…" Jonah piped up. "What time does practice start?"

YES YES YES.

Finally my authority figure was paying off!

That was how I managed to beautifully arrange a Quidditch practice, and scare my team into training long and hard. And I may have told a teeny-tiny white lie. But since there actually _was_ a player on the team with the broom of all amazingness then it wasn't _that _much of a lie. I just… twisted the truth slightly to make it seem like our chances were worse.

But then again, what was it that Malfoy said the other day about my chasing? That I was the only chaser that could get a goal past him…

Perhaps our chances aren't _that_ bad. I mean, don't get me wrong, they are pretty bad, considering that we came bottom of the school league table last year and we are pretty much the same team this year just missing James, our lead chaser and captain, but if we work more as a team…

Who knows.

We will begin tonight in training. Hoorah!

This is good. Very good. I am actually very relieved. The pressure is lifting off my weary shoulders.

Unfortunately I had no one to confide in my relief since my darling cousin who had so politely sat next to me yesterday decided to _not_ sit next to me today and is sitting BY HIMSELF at the front of the room. I can't say I am offended, however, since after yesterday evening's conversation I believe he may want to avoid me asking questions about his and Malfoy's mysterious argument.

I bet you 50 galleons it is about something _incredibly_ stupid. Like which is the best manufacturer of Quidditch gloves. Or whether or not Kyle Pontiss, the seeker for the Leicester Lions, was a worthy investment for the new premier league team. (Personally I believe he wasn't since when he played for the Sydney Spiders last year he was AWFUL - maybe I could jump in with my view and save them the heartache…Hmmm.)

Not having a partner therefore meant that I had to resort to sitting next to Alex Finch-Fletchley, who is an absolute menace in any Potions classroom. Or in fact ANY classroom at all. The poor boy is so clumsy that he ends up in the hospital wing at least four times a week. So he rarely has a partner as when he does he injures them with greater frequency and severity than he does himself, and trust me, that is saying something.

But I had no choice! Isla, Louis, Natalia…none of them _do_ Potions. It's basically myself, Al, Nicco Zabini, Malfoy and all the Ravenclaws. No Hufflepuffs, now that I think about it. Interesting.

Nicco Zabini would have been my usual choice, as although he is a bit of a ghastly idiot at times, he is my best friend's darling twin brother and is therefore obligated to be polite to me. But he was busy groping Katie Fisher under the table. That left a couple of Ravenclaws who are so painfully silent that I have never heard them speak their own names out loud, and Alex.

On the bright side, Alex was utterly delighted that he was _finally_ getting a Potions partner and seemed very keen to inform me of said delight. "This is absolutely _brilliant_! Our Potion today is going to be _brilliant_!"

I tried to get as excited about the prospect of potentially having all my flesh burnt off by an exploding potion, as was likely to happen, as I could and got him chopping gurdyroots so that he wasn't tempted to stray anywhere near the boiling hot cauldron of Exploding fluid, which as you might imagine is not something that you want in the care of someone who can't walk down a hallway without crashing into three other people and damaging a painting.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Still in Potions<strong>_

What is going ON over there?

Al and Malfoy are having some sort of verbal spat… not quite a full-blown argument, but they certainly don't look happy with one another.

Why has no one noticed?

This is QUALITY gossip material! How is it that the gossiping girls of Hogwarts are all on high alert if something remarkably ordinary happens - like someone asks someone else to Hogsmeade, I mean _yawn_ - and yet if something actually abnormal, like two best friends like Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy having a lovers tiff in Potions _no one cares_.

It is just ridiculous.

Ah, they are right by the ingredients cupboard. You know what this means? This means that I can sneak past under the pretext of collecting extra ingredients from the cupboard.

I know it is nosy. But they are having a go at each other, albeit in whispered voices, in the middle of a classroom. I may just have _happened_ to overhear them as I casually _sauntered_ past, _innocently _on my way to collect some more powdered Erumpent Horn.

You see. I am an innocent bystander who _accidentally _caught a whiff of their whispered conversation.

* * *

><p><em><strong>A few minutes later, the Potions storeroom<strong>_

I am such a _Slytherin_.

Mind you, those two are stupid if they don't realise that someone standing in the storeroom can hear the entirety of their whispered argument. Really, they need to invest in some serious lessons in _subtlety_ or the like, because those two have no concept of keeping things private.

Regardless of me being able to hear their conversation, it is proving fruitless since they are talking in some kind of mysterious code that no one could possibly understand without a translator for the madness that is men conversing with men. I have managed to establish, however, with my great talent for subterfuge, that they were not arguing about Kyle Pontiss the new Leicester Lions transfer.

Of course, this only extends the mystery further.

If they are not arguing about the most controversial Quidditch player deal in the past month, then what else Quidditch related is there for them to be arguing about?

Apart from Quidditch gloves…

Anyway, for future reference, the most telling part of their argument went somewhat like this, however I must be granted slight artistic licence for the words used since I do not have a memory like my mother, who can remember pretty much every word anyone has ever said to her.

The argument

_Al: _"It's not my fault you haven't done anything about it, just get a grip and-"

_Malfoy: _"A _grip_. Come on, Potter!"

_Al: _"You need to _admit_ to it. It's just not cricket to be acting like this."

_Malfoy: _"Of course it's not _cricket_. It's Quidditch…"

(NB: I was peeking through the door at this point, but could only see Al's face and the back of Malfoy's head. But Al had that sarcastic sort of belittling expression he has that he usually only displays when talking to Quidditch-haters and particularly dense blondes.)

(NNB: Just realised Malfoy is a particularly dense blonde. This explains the look.)

_Malfoy:_ "Oh. Muggle expression, right?"

_Al:_ (NNNB: He was grinning very widely. Like Christmas had come early. Thus signifying the fact that their argument was near its terminus.) "Welcome back, Malfs."

(NNNNB: Malfs=idiotic nick-name. Sounds like the name for a pet dog or ferret or something.)

_Malfoy:_ "Yeah, yeah… You know I'm sorry, right. I didn't mean anything by it."

_Al:_ "I know that now, and you know that. But she doesn't know that so you've basically just created your worst enemy."

_Malfoy:_ "Enemy? Shit. I didn't think of it like that. I really am a stupid prig."

(NNNNNB: Invoked _major_ artistic licence on that last bit as I felt that was what he should have said seeing as he clearly had an argument about something incredibly inane.)

(NNNNNNB: He is a stupid prig anyway. Fact.)

_Al:_ "And what we were talking about at breakfast…?"

(NNNNNNNB: Totally missed the fact that they were talking at breakfast. Wow. Maybe my spying and subterfuge powers are not as advanced as I thought they were. Disappointing.)

_Malfoy:_ "What… the, er… gardening… _affair_?"

(NNNNNNNNB: No artistic licence used on that one. And we all know that AFFAIR is a inherent reference to the fact that he and my best friend are getting frisky on the Quidditch Pitch! He has practically admitted to it!)

_Al:_ "If we're going down the metaphor route, Malfs, then you know what you have to do. Either prune it now, or let it grow."

I know. I never knew that Al was capable of such statements of profound underlying sentimentality. I was startled by it in fact, though I would probably have been _more_ startled had I had a CLUE IN HELL what they had been on about!

HOW MANY 17 year old boys talk in bloody _verse_ and _poetic devices_ when they are discussing a sport? HOW MANY?

This has confirmed what I think deep down I always knew.

They are not manly. At all. They are like vapid little girls trapped in the bodies of sportsmen. They have this air of being all tough and strong, but when it comes down to the crunch they discuss Quidditch in _metaphors_.

What a waste of ten minutes standing in a cupboard.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Late evening (about 6pm. I have missed dinner. The shame), The hospital wing<strong>_

I should have stayed in that bloody cupboard.

If I had been in that cupboard then I would not have gone over to mine and Alex's desk, feeling thoroughly perplexed. I also would not have stirred our Exploding fluid three times anticlockwise (everyone knows that if you stir it anti-clockwise more than twice during the Flaxweed addition step then you multiply the chances of premature explosion threefold. I am such an IDIOT). I also would not have been looking blankly over to where Malfoy and Al were high-fiving irrelevant of the fact that they had been arguing profusely not three minutes ago. It was very strange, you can hardly blame me for looking especially after their weird conversation I had 'accidentally' overheard the end of.

Then I wouldn't have missed Alex giving the potion an extra stir… Anti-clockwise.

Then our potion wouldn't have exploded.

Then I wouldn't be sitting here in a bed in the hospital wing with a burnt arm hanging in a sling, tattered robes draped over the covers of my bed and an entire flask of some skin-healing concoction to drink.

On the bright side, I am right next to an open window so a game of tissue-Quidditch is readily underway.

In fact this whole fatally-injured lark is actually quite a doss. Let's look at it objectively:

_Number of boring lessons I have missed:_ 3

_Number of apologetic visitors bringing chocolate-related gifts:_ 4 and one letter from Grandma Molly accompanied by a packet of homemade fudge. Yum, yum.

_Number of 'So there's no Quidditch training tonight, right?' letters from my team-mates:_ 6. Very disappointing. But since I can't really be bothered to go to Quidditch training right now, I am suitably pleased with this.

However, it does mean my efforts from this morning were all in vain.

_Number of hours of extra sleep: _4 (!) (This is damn impressive!)

Oh crap. Someone is coming…!

If this is Madame Bovine I think I will pretend to be asleep because she will destroy my joyous mood.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Eons later (or so it feels), in Hospital Wing<strong>_

It was Alex Finch-Fletchley.

Thankfully. Or not thankfully. I haven't quite decided yet. I suppose he is much better than Madame Bovine at any rate, although it is partially his fault that I am hanging out with Madame Bovine on an otherwise perfectly acceptable Friday afternoon.

"I'm so sorry, Rose! Honestly, I'm so stupid and I'm terrible at Potions and _honestly_, I don't even know why they let me in the NEWT class in the first place. I should have known that it would cause disaster and-"

To say he was vaguely apologetic for the events of this morning was really, quite the understatement. He spent about five minutes relating his immense apologies and severe condolences for the fact that I now had my arm in a sling. Though, and I thought this was rather sweet, he said that even though I had a sling, I still looked rather lovely.

Who knew he could be so charming?

It took me a while to manage to interject into his babbling, but I eventually got there. "Honestly, Alex, it's not a problem. I stirred it the wrong way too. We _both_ got it wrong."

He looked taken aback. "Oh no… I was the one who got it wrong, you're so clever you'd never make a mistake like that."

"I'm flattered, but really, I was more than partly to blame for the fiasco earlier on," I smiled politely, since he was looking pretty on edge standing at the end of my bed looking at me in a manner that suggested he thought I was on my death-bed and these were my last words. Such a sweet, decent boy. "Just be thankful you missed the explosion!"

Lucky git he was, as well, missing it. He had gone over to ask Professor Danes a question at the _exact_ moment that the cauldron just lit up in flames. Of course, I had to be the idiot that was stirring it at the time. So I was the one that was wounded.

However, I was exempt from doing the homework!

Or, at least I hope I was.

Otherwise that is just so unjust and believe me when I say, I will launch an official complaint against Professor Danes.

"Do you think you'll be alright?" He looked at my arm with an expression that darted from mild-horror to immense-sympathy in the space of under a minute.

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

I am not dying. I hope he realises this. I have a single miniscule burn on my right arm. Alright this may prevent me from writing and therefore doing homework for a week or so (something which I am not entirely averse to) but _really_… He is quite the worrier.

Anyway, I was rather hoping that this was a slight indication that he should perhaps go on his merry way and return to his Ravenclaw pals to discuss interesting and complex things like they usually do.

Unfortunately, he was not picking up on my vibes floating through the air. Depressingly, most people do not. Something that was eminently visible in his next sentence.

"I just came down here, because…" He paused and began twitching his foot slightly. It sort of looked like he was having a seizure, but at the end of the day having a seizure in the Hospital Wing wouldn't be so bad since Madame Bovine was just round the corner. "I was just wondering if… if maybe you'd… Maybe you'd liketogotoHogsmeadewithme."

Initially, I did not understand his sentence. He sort of said it in this squeaky voice and kind of muffled it in his collar, so I had to ask for clarification.

"Would you like to… erm… to go to Hogsmeade with me… ?"

I didn't particularly want to go with him for several reasons, the most obvious being that although he is a lovely chap (albeit very clumsy) I certainly don't like him in _that_ way.

But… He looked so nervous and inquisitive and vulnerable.

And I just couldn't say no to the poor boy.

"Oh…"

"Just as friends, of course," he stalled.

"Oh, sure. Just as friends. Right. Yes."

Of course, I realise now that I sounded more of a stuttering fool than he had earlier, but I was trying to put emphasis on the 'friends' bit so that he would realise that I wasn't going there to hang out in Puddifoots and throw confetti all over my hair whilst batting my eyelashes. That is really not my thing.

He finally left after that. Thank goodness. It was getting mighty awkward.

Once again, _why do these things happen to me?_

I'd rather land in a swimming pool with Malfoy several times over than have to put myself through such a conversation with Alex Finch-Fletchley again. Merlin. I need to get a grip.

TO DO:  
>1) Get a grip.<br>2) Collect tissue 'quaffles' from ground just underneath window of Hospital wing before Mme. Bovine catches them there.  
>3) Gardening affair? - solve this mystery. Either Malfoy is having an affair with Isla or a garden gnome. I could go ask Professor Longbottom since he <em>is<em> Professor of Herbology. Then I could see his cardigan up close… It is a tempting proposition.  
>4) Seek Natalia and Isla's advice on Alex FF Hogsmeade date-or-not-date situation.<br>5) Hide fudge from M. Bovine.  
>6) Go to sleep.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for the reviews everyone! I hope you are still enjoying it.  
><strong>**I'm trying to update as quickly as possible - I have a lot planned out but it's just a case of getting down in words. I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway :) More is on its way... The mysteries will eventually be solved, just hang on in there!**

**Gco.**


	4. September 4th: A Team Unlike Any Other

**A/N: Thank you for reading, I HOPE you are enjoying it, please let me know if you are :) Of course, thank you to _everyone_ who has reviewed so far, I really appreciate it. Keep them coming because I love to know what you are all thinking.**

**Sorry this chapter was a bit late coming. I am going to try to keep updating once a week(ish), seeing as I have no work for the time being so am FREEEEE!**

**Anyway... onwards with the story...**

* * *

><p>"If you can laugh together, you can work together."<p>

**-Robert Orben**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Saturday September 4<strong>__**th**__**, Gryffindor common room**_

That is IT.

I am getting to the bottom of Malfoy and his 'gardening' issues if it kills me. I couldn't really care less if he was weird and unsociable around other people, but if it's making him go all loon-bucket around Albus and, in fact, _myself_ something serious must have happened. That or he has just gone stark-raving bonkers.

It is not normal, for example, for the boy to _shout_ at me.

Shout. As in, physically raise his voice above a level that is polite for civilised company.

I know we have never been best friends, or in fact anywhere _near_ that level of acquaintance, but never before has his inner raging Malfoy taken over him so much that he actually got angry. And not just 'I am a smirking Slytherin' angry. I am talking seriously vengeful. Full of rage. Harbouring deep internal anguish.

He is usually one of those silent brooding types, that if he is mad with you will throw you dirty glares and sneers from the other side of the Potions classroom or library or whatever. The boy doesn't _shout_. It is far too uncouth for someone of his upbringing, the poncy twerp.

But _something_ must have been annoying him because he did. Shout, that is.

After breakfast, Natalia and I were feeling very jaunty and I felt that my poor arm in a sling needed a bit of jostling around to get it used to its new position, so we decided to go for a calming walk down to the lake and back before our first class of the day. It wasn't raining or anything, so this seemed like a perfectly plausible and satisfactory idea.

However, for Al who stumbled into the hall just as we were leaving, it was 'dangerous' for us to be going outside alone and therefore he was obliged to accompany us.

Which was incredibly annoying, since I was fully intending on reliving the dramas of last night in the hospital wing to Natalia, however, now I could not since we had a boy (my cousin no less) in our midst. And everyone knows that you cannot discuss boy troubles in the presence of other boys. Particularly if that other boy happens to be related to you and would therefore take the boy troubles as a personal attack.

Despite this, I had no choice but to divulge the events, since I really needed advice on the matter. I also needed to grovel over the detention I was given for chucking tissues out of the hospital wing window. That Mme. Bovine seriously has it in for me.

So I recounted the fairly awkward conversation I had exchanged with Alex Finch-Fletchley the night before… Al was thankfully in another world looking out over the lake and I was vaguely under the impression that he hadn't heard a single word.

But there you go. At least I still had Natalia. Women are so much more reliable when it comes to the trials and tribulations of boy troubles.

"Alex asked you out?" She asked in mild disbelief.

I understand where her disbelief was coming from. Let's face it, the boy isn't exactly renowned across the school for being full of confidence. He's hardly a beacon of self-importance since he spends most of his time knocking things over and walking into walls. Also, I don't think he'd ever had a girlfriend. So, the fact that he had asked_ me_ of all people out suggested that it wasn't just a casual mate-date.

I nodded to Natalia. "And you said yes?" She confirmed, looking thoughtful.

"What choice did I have? I could hardly say no." I sighed. "He's a decent bloke, I wouldn't want to crush all his hopes and dreams."

"I doubt you'd crush _all_ his hopes and dreams, Rosie," Al suddenly interjected, still gazing aimlessly over the lake. "Though you'd probably crush a few."

"Mmmm," Natalia mumbled pensively. "And he said he wanted it to just be mates?"

"Yes," I replied. "Do you think he meant it though? He might just have added it on because I was hesitating and he was worried that I would crush all his hopes and dreams."

"It's possible," Natalia said. "I have always suspected that he had a little thing for you…"

"Whatt?"

"Oh, you know, there was that time in first year," Natalia began.

I knew exactly which story she was going to tell. Honestly, that girl reads more into things than there really needs to be read.

"Urghhh," I groaned.

"When he jumped in front of that snowball that James chucked at you. I thought that was very brave of him, especially as he hardly knew you at the time." Natalia turned to face me and grinned. "So, do you like him?"

"Oh good _lord_," I announced. "Is that really a question you have to ask?"

And _then_ that was when HE turned up.

It appeared that he had gone out for a morning jog and being far more successful than I have ever been on the whole not losing one's breath front, had managed to catch up with us as we neared the little beach next to the lake just past Hagrid's hut. However, judging by his rather disgruntled appearance, I surmised that he had, in fact, been _listening in_ on our conversation.

Which is just rude.

Alright, I know that I was listening in on his and Al's argument the other day, but that was only because I was mightily concerned about the mental welfare of a most beloved cousin. What reason did Malfoy have to be listening in on our private conversations?

Pure. Nosiness. Which, really, is no reason at all. It is just impolite.

Even though he had been listening in, he reacted very oddly to the news. Especially considering he had no idea who we were talking about. At least I don't think he did as we did only mention Alex's name once, and even then we could have been talking about any Alex…

And, in fact, I was slightly concerned that if he DID know then he might go and tell Alex that I was not as madly in love with him and Natalia believed him to be with me (due to the first year snowball incident) and then Alex's hopes and dreams really _would_ be absolutely crushed.

Anyway, he pitched up without his usual pomp and ceremony of swishing his cloak around and trying to look important. He wasn't wearing a cloak so no swishing could occur. He just sort of jogged past and then slowed down as he was next to us, panting like a Hippogriff that had just flown from New Zealand to the Orkneys via Hawaii.

"Weasley," he gasped/spluttered venomously. I should have seen that as a sign that he was not in a tip top mood this morning. But I did not and proceeded to babble on like an idiot.

"Aah, finally starting your physical training regime, I see. Where are the rest of your team?" I cast a patronizing glare over the surrounding woodland. "Scared of coming out in case they break a nail?"

I don't know why it annoyed him so much. It is nothing so bad as he usually says to me (usually comments about my wild hair, and of course the generic 'your-quid ditch-team-is-crap comments), and even Al thought it was the tiniest bit witty. Well, he sniggered, I assume this is a sign he thought it was witty. That or he was sniggering because he could read his friend's face like a book and knew exactly what was coming to me.

"I beg your pardon," he stopped running, standing in front of me so that I had no choice but to come to a standstill. I rolled my eyes as I stood in front of him, getting a bit of a crick in the neck from having to look up so high. "Did you just offend my _team_?"

"Come on, _Malfs_," I snorted. "It's not like you've never offended MY team before. All's fair in love and war, as they say. Besides, even you admit that your squad are a bunch of pansies."

"Sometimes, _Weasley_-" With the venom he uttered my name in, I could actually tell that he was in a properly NOT GOOD mood. I shuffled my foot backwards in an attempt to back away and make a run for it, but he grabbed my arm (thankfully not the slinged one) in a vice grip. "-you can be _really_ immature."

HA! ME! IMMATURE! Look who is talking! Hark, the bells of hypocrisy are ringing throughout the valley.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I was fair tempted to call him 'Malfs' since the nickname had grown on me in a weird pathetic way. But it was quite jolly and judging from Malfoy's face the last thing he needed at that moment was a poor attempt at frivolity.

"McGonagall wants to see us in her office later. You better be there, because I'm _not_ covering for you."

"I didn't ASK you to cover for me," I snapped back.

He stammered for a moment. "Yeah, well… Just be there, Weasley. And none of your smart-arsed remarks, alright? I'm not in the mood for your witticisms."

_I'm not in the mood for your witticisms_.

Bleurgh, what an insufferable git. You know, every year before now I have managed to at least put up with the prat for Al's sake but he is _really_ getting on my nerves this year. I don't know what is up with him, but if he snaps at me again I swear to Godric Gryffindor himself I will hex him so badly his ancestors will squeal.

"My remarks aren't 'smart-arsed'," I gaped back, as he frowned in my direction looking distinctly less than pleased at something.

"Your remarks are _always_ smart-arsed, and most often entirely unnecessary."

Unnecessary? They could hardly be called unnecessary! Sometimes people _need_ taking down a peg or two, or _always_ in his case.

"What has got into you?" I had thought that perhaps by going down the direct 'demand what is the problem' route, we might actually solve his little man-PMS issues. Unfortunately I was mistaken, because instead of doing what any normal person would do and break down into tears revealing all the dramas of their family owl passing away during the holidays, he got angry. At _me_.

And that was where the shouting came in.

"NOTHING!"

Right.

Really.

Nothing?

Honestly, I may not be an expert in psychobabble and reading people's most intimate darkest feelings, but even I can tell that there was definitely SOMETHING up with the lunatic.

"I'm GOING." He announced to the three of us, who were standing there silently, before storming off at a hasty sprint.

"What a charming boy," I muttered, more to myself than anything else.

Al, of course, was just odd after that. As Natalia watched his retreating back with an expression of horror mingled with shock, Al just rolled his eyes and sighed like an old man. I swear that boy is becoming aged beyond his years.

"I said _prune it_ not bloody _hack at it_," he grumbled to himself and then sprinted after the blonde buffoon.

Of course, this brings me back to my _first point_: I'm getting to the bottom of Malfoy and his gardening issues if it kills me. This bloody pruning nonsense has reared its ugly head again, and I need to blow that secret right out of the water to stop Malfs (Harhar) being a stress git.

How to do this?

First port of call is a deep emotional chat with Al. Perhaps if I get him thinking philosophically he may reveal hints about this mysterious gardening problem that Malfoy seems to have.

I am convinced it is a metaphor… unless… Maybe Malfoy is struggling in Herbology?

For the good of all our sanities, I will endeavour to help Malfoy in his Herbology lessons. Of course, it all makes sense now… I'm sure he only got an E in his O.W.L. He must be struggling with the hardcore N.E.W.T level nonsense they put us through! I only listen in class really, because I have Longbottom's cardigan to look at, but you are as straight as Malfoy claims to be then of course you will not be encouraged into working hard for an attractive Professor's approval.

Mmmm. Perhaps I have the qualities of a deep thinker after all.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Much later, the Library<br>Mission Herbology Help 10% complete**_

Note to future self: Do not attempt to lend Malfoy your _'Expert Herbology For You' _textbook as:

A) He will not appreciate the kind gesture that you are trying to save his grades and stop him having a meltdown and potentially killing someone with his death glare, and will end up dropping it in front of you two minutes later saying, "I think you forgot your bedtime reading".B) He will snap at you from then on for relatively minor offences such as 'breathing too loudly' or 'closing a book too forcefully' or 'being too ginger'. Many of these offences cannot be helped.

From henceforth I am cancelling Mission Herbology Help, and if that snobby dimwit prances over here with some other complaint, or to find some other reason to take out his Herbology frustrations on me, then frankly I will ignore him since he does not deserve my mighty attentions.

Pahaa! He is coming over. Time to put new mission into effect.

"Weasley," he is saying.

I am not listening. I am not listening. I am not -

"Weasel," he says with a little more venom.

Oh, this is so liberating. I can just pretend I am writing an essay and then the idiot will eventually give up any attempts to tell me off for disrupting the air currents by breathing or whatever.

"Weasley. Listen to me."

No. I will not listen to you, stressy boy. Frankly, I never wish to listen to you ever again. The only time I ever want to hear your smarmy voice is when you are congratulating me on having won the Quidditch House Cup and apologising for never taking my Herbology help when it was offered.

"Earth to Weasley!"

He's starting to get really annoyed!

This was, on reflection, a much better plan that the Herbology help one. From this day forth I will ignore him.

"What are you even _doing_?" I think he is -

* * *

><p><strong>A few moments later, The library<strong>

_Well_. Just because I had happened to forget about that stupid meeting with Professor McGonagall this afternoon really was no reason whatsoever for that moron to come stomping over here snatching books (private books) out of my writing hands and refusing to give them back until I listened to him.

That constitutes bribery which is _illegal_ which means I could _sue_ which means he could go to Askaban and take out his gardening anger on the Dementors. Plan.

Seriously, he actually whipped the book out from under my quill, slammed it shut and then stood there just _staring _at me like he was a teacher about to give me a month's worth of detention.

The look didn't suit him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you say something?" I feigned ignorance.

"FINALLY. For someone who spends so little time actually doing homework, it's quite disconcerting how quickly you've taken to it," he scoffed, twirling my book around in his hands.

"What do you want? I have things to do, so spit it out then go away."

He slid the book onto the table. "Were you not listening to me earlier?" I shook my head. Honestly, when have I _ever_ listened that closely to what he's said? Apart from when I'm spying, because of course any information is a clue. "McGonagall wants to see us."

Quite obviously, I had completely forgotten about McGonagall wanting to see us, and so let out an irritated sigh. The library is on the first floor, and McGonagall's office is on the fifth. That is one hell of a climb up a load of stairs.

"When?"

"Ten minutes. But we'll leave in two since we have to walk there." Then he lumbered off like the impolite oik that he is, whilst I sat there cursing the day I was ever made Captain of the Quidditch team because, obviously, this is what this whole fiasco is going to be about.

Unless… they're not going to _cancel _the tournament this year are they?

If they do I will never forgive that batty old woman.

What else is there living for, if one does not have Quidditch?

Apart from cake.

TO DO:  
>Learn levitation spell to get up stairs in haste. What is the point of being a witch if I can't abuse my powers?<br>HOMEWORK

* * *

><p><em><strong>Later, Gryffindor common room<strong>_

MERLIN'S PANTS. Must that woman make my life any more complicated?

First, she gives me endless amounts of homework in transfiguration class that, frankly, I could probably do without, and has been doing so for SEVEN whole years. This is tough and doesn't exactly do wonders for my self-esteem. I am a Quidditch player not a transfiguration guru!

Secondly, she makes me Quidditch captain. I won't complain about this one. It is pretty cool. I get to choose which drills and stuff we do, which means we can avoid James' favourite from last year - the Quaffle relay (quite possibly the most pointless energy-consuming training regime I have ever experienced in my life).

And NOW. This. THIS ludicrous suggestion. It's madness. Absolute madness.

In FACT, I am tempted to write home RIGHT NOW about this total load of cobblers. Who has ever heard of merging the house teams to form one school team?

What is the POINT? There are… what, _two_ schools that we could possibly play against in Europe? TWO.

I think her age has actually gotten to her head. And in fact, I would have hexed her right there and then if she had suggested doing away with the house teams entirely. Seriously, you can't just have away with hundreds if not THOUSANDS of years of tradition just because you need to spice up the school sport life a bit. It's the most ill-conceived manner of dealing with things and McGonagall should know better.

I suppose I should start from the beginning.

Well, after Malfs (I'm loving this nickname. It sounds so dorky) had his library break-down and finally managed to drag me away from pretending to write an essay to walk, in awkward silence, up to McGonagall's office he _painfully_ neglected to mention that McGonagall didn't JUST want to see the two of us. She wanted to see Lorcan and Darren as well.

Of course, that would have made so much sense if he had actually told me this in the first place, and I wouldn't have been so terrified about coming. For all I knew it was a 'pruning' ambush!

So when we rounded the corner to where her office was, I breathed an enormous sigh of relief that there would at least be witnesses to my potential murder. Or his. You know, if he _seriously_ got on my nerves. Or shouted at me again, since I had no book at the time to pretend to be writing in with which to ignore him.

Lorcan, the handsome bloke that he is, immediately gave me a dazzling smile. "Hey, Rose!" Darren kind of awkwardly grinned.

I smiled back. After all, here I was standing in a school corridor in the company of not one, but _three_ lads who made it onto the official Hogwart's Hot Boy list, although one of them was not of my choosing whatsoever. Many girls would have given their left leg and both arms to be standing where I was, slap bang in the middle of three… Ok. Two handsome grinning blokes, and one grumpy, irate (yet still not altogether hideously formed) bloke.

So I gave Lorcan my best dazzling smile and went to stand next to him, on account of the Malfoy still remaining, distressingly, completely silent. It was unlike him to not be bombarding me with his self-professed sparkling wit every second of the journey. "So, Lorcan, got any idea why we're here?"

"None," Lorcan confessed. Though the slightly guilty smirk that dropped onto his face a second later told me otherwise. "But I have heard from my sources that it's something to do with this mysterious dance at Christmas."

"Really?" I beamed delighted. Such juicy gossip, and from a Hufflepuff, no less! "Is it a Quidditch themed dance, or something?"

Lorcan shrugged. "I dunno. But I hope so. That would be brilliant."

"We could have snitch confetti -"

"Quaffle balloons - "

"And listen to that ancient band the Quidditch Quartet," I finished. "Actually they're awful. But we'd have to listen to them on principle."

"Of course," Lorcan said, with mock-seriousness. "It just wouldn't do to listen to a band without Quidditch in their name."

Malfoy tutted loudly, and Lorcan turned to look at him with quite the glare.

"IF…" Malfoy began ominously, "You two have finished blabbering on about Merlin-knows-what, then perhaps you'll notice that Professor McGonagall has kindly opened the door to her office."

She had, in fact, opened the door. But as she was sitting at her desk and had merely opened it through a silent flick of her wand, I would hardly have noticed it unless I had been staring at it like _someone_ clearly had. Darren and Lorcan filed into the room, but walking behind them Malfoy and I attempted to walk through the door at the same time.

It was like one of those awkward moments that you rarely experience with anyone other than a stranger, where you're standing opposite each other trying to get past, but each time you move one way they move the same way and you continue to do this for quite some time like some bizarre courting dance, before one of you has the courage to grab the other one by the shoulders and just move them aside with a friendly smile. Only it _wasn't_ quite like one of those moments, because Malfoy and I weren't strangers.

And that smile he gave me before he squeezed past me through the door first was anything _but_ friendly. It was hostile almost fierce. But the piercing gaze that met my eyes displayed an entire different emotion, almost as if there was something really _bothering_ him. Guilt? Confusion? I don't know what. His eyes were too hard to read.

That one gaze, however, pretty much set the tone for the rest of the evening. That it wasn't going to end well.

"Gentlemen and… lady," McGonagall glanced my direction for a split-second. "I must ask that what I am about to divulge remains within this room, at least for the time being."

Sworn to secrecy? By McGonagall? Oh yes, I was right about this not boding well.

"Is that understood?"

We all nodded in agreement, and her scrutiny jumped to each of us in turn.

Then she smiled. Somewhat severely, but then again, even the slightest curl of the lip when it comes to McGonagall constitutes the equivalent of a full-blown grin.

"I have some _exciting_ news for you," she announced, looking immensely pleased with herself. I have to say the change in her tone was a _tad_ disconcerting. Also the fact that _she_ thought it was exciting probably meant that it was not exciting at all. I bet they're holding the International Transfiguration Convention here or something else incredibly mind-numbingly dull. "I gather you are aware of the existence of Durmstrang school?"

All round nods. And all round general confusion, as we were all thinking WHERE the hell is this going?

"The headmaster of Durmstrang and I have decided that in the interests of healthy school inter-competition and international magical cooperation to host a Quidditch tournament."

"A tournament?" Darren uttered in immense confusion.

For a second I genuinely thought that he was, in fact, more stupid than we had ever given him credit for and had no idea what a tournament was, but then he clarified further.

"A tournament against one school is hardly a tournament," he said.

McGonagall shrugged. "I suppose it could be considered a sort of test series."

"Like in _cricket_," Malfoy suddenly announced. The four looks of sheer disbelief he was granted with at this exclamation that he WAS in fact aware of something that was only found in the muggle world were completely lost on him.

Then I remembered the conversation I had overheard between him and Albus the other week.

_- "It's just not _cricket_."_

Of course, AllyPally must have mentioned this old muggle saying before meaning that he had had to explain cricket, it's relevance to English muggles and the whole 'test match' situation.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy, I suppose it could be compared to cricket," McGonagall repeated, looking quite surprised. I mean, it wasn't everyday that you met a Malfoy who could name a muggle sport. And it was certainly extremely rare for them to mention it in magical company. And seeing as McGonagall had known about five generations of Malfoys (she's that old, I am sure of it) then it must have been all the more shocking for her. "The Durmstrang team will stay with us for a week in the run up to Christmas, where we will play a game. Then in April, we will take a select team over to Durmstrang Academy for a week to play another, and the final match will be held here at Hogwarts in the summer."

I was gob smacked. A trip to Bulgaria (or wherever their school is) would be BRILL. Absolutely _spiffy_. Far better than the pathetic excuse for a spring we have here in Scotland.

"This is _fab_!" I announced, without meaning to. Sometimes these things just pop out of my mouth, especially in moments of great excitement, which in case you couldn't tell was just about now. "Absolutely _fab_."

"I'm glad you feel so positively towards the idea, Miss Weasley," McGonagall informed me severely. I got the feeling that she was disapproving of my grinning demeanour.

No matter. This is a SCHOOL TRIP. These _never _happen. So this is a _once in a lifetime_ opportunity!

McGonagall, as usual, chose the moment that I was clearly basking in the glory of such a happy occasion to spring another piece of delectable information about this whole predicament upon us. "Of course, this means that we need to create a single school team combining our strongest players."

Darren and Lorcan looked at each other in hushed panic.

"I will be enlisting Professor Wood's help with the selection, though all four of you will be placed on the team, we will need to fill the remaining places and allow for reserves." McGonagall gulped rather ominously. "The Bulgarians aren't known for gentle Quidditch play, so I imagine we will be needing replacements."

All four of us sat there in silence.

"Any questions?"

"Will the Quidditch cup still be on?" I couldn't help but ask. I mean, just because she wanted us to play against some fur-coat wearing lunatics from the snow-covered wilds of Bulgaria doesn't mean that I am going to give up on my dream of winning the school cup!

It is a matter of honour.

"Yes, it will. I am sure we will have enough time for the usual number of inter-house matches. It _is_ only three weeks spread out over the year."

THANK THE LORD.

I am _blessed_.

This means I am still in with a shot of kicking Malfoy's arse. And Scamander's. And McLaggen's. I have a chance of kicking _all_ their arses and proving to the world (and Hogwarts) that a FEMALE Quidditch captain is the best possible one there could be.

"Professor," Malfoy queried, solemnly, "Assuming the four house teams are combined, and all four of us are on the 'Hogwarts' team…"

McGonagall nodded.

"… Who will be Captain?"

Oh god.

This had not occurred to me. HOW could this not have occurred to me? Am I not the daughter of the most intelligent witch ever to walk the halls of Hogwarts? Must I inherit my father's lacklustre logic as well his capacity to blush at a second's notice?

"Ah," McGonagall said. All four of us had sat forward in our chairs. "I suppose we will cross that bridge when we come to it. I will consult Professor Wood on the matter."

Bum. Despite (apparently) hating bloody Malfoy's father, Wood for some reason loved his enemy's lowlife son. Therefore, would most likely choose him.

You know what this means? I will have to spend the rest of my school year being bossed around by MALFOY.

After that, the meeting wrapped up pretty hastily, and I returned to the Gryffindor common room to be bombarded with the same question by several people.

"Why have you been so long in the library? It's the _first Saturday back_. How much homework can you POSSIBLY have?"

I wanted to inform them of the whole Quidditch-with-Durmstrang thing, but bloody McGonagall had sworn us to secrecy. I never really realised until now how hard it is to keep a secret that is quite so exciting. Apart from the Captain dilemma, the fact that we may potentially have an exciting school trip on our hands makes this almost the best news I have heard all year!

I tried to subtly quiz Natalia about Durmstrang, as she has had several family members that went there and I needed to investigate the competition. However, the talk of Quidditch just made her mind turn to other things… Like boys.

"You know Durmstrang?" I had asked, all subtle and unobvious. Not that she would have ever been able to guess what was going on, particularly as I had interrupted her in the middle of a very serious toenail painting session. Today the colour was a garish shade of bright pink.

"Uh huuuhhhh."

"What are the people who go there like?"

She peered up from her toenails with the most mischievous grin I have ever seen upon her little face.

"They're all lads."

"Right. And are they-" I was going to attempt to ask whether or not they were good at Quidditch, but then two things simultaneously occurred to me.

1) That the chances of _Natalia_ knowing whether or not they were any good at Quidditch were about 100 billion to one. Ie. Very slim.

2) That me asking about them being good at Quidditch may alert her to the fact that something fishy is going on this year… And she would bribe me with cake until I relented and told her what it was. But then I would get into trouble with McGonagall.

The slight moment of hesitation allowed Natalia to start nattering away. "They are all _fit_. They have that sexy dark European look going on. And they wear fur coats."

I fail to see how fur coats are attractive on a man, but then I have never experienced such attire on a 'sexy dark European' so it is possible that I am entirely mistaken.

"I want to marry one."

And that was pretty much the topic of conversation for the remainder of the evening. Once Natty gets talking about boys it is fair tricky to get her to stop. Therefore it is much easier to simply join in.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sunday September 5<strong>__**th**__**, 7**__**th**__** Year Girls Dorm - Gryffindor tower**_

Reasons why I should be Captain of the Hogwarts Quidditch team

1) I am quite a good player. Well, I must be alright if I was picked to be Captain of the Gryffindor team… This may be speculation. Perhaps McGonagall felt she needed to make sure every Potter-Weasley made Captain…?  
>2) I am v. organised. I write To Do lists and everything - everyone knows this is a sign of <em>great<em> organisational skills.  
>3) I am a good public speaker. (I have a loud voice - this is all that is really necessary to be a great public speaker in Quidditch practices).<br>4) I make up _brill_ training regimes. Everyone says so.  
>5) I am a girl. This gives me the edge since all the Durmstrang lot are lads.<p>

Reasons why I will not be Captain of the Hogwarts Quidditch team

1) I am not rich so cannot bribe the person who chooses the Captain.  
>2) My name is not Malfoy, so I cannot <em>scare<em> the person who chooses the Captain into choosing me.  
>3) I am a girl - may be perceived as weak by anti-feminist Quidditch players.<br>4) Professor Wood doesn't like me.  
>5) I don't have a Lightning III. Sob.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Later, Great Hall (dinnertime)<strong>_

NOTE TO SELF: Fur coat - suitable for Scotland? Would keep me vair warm in Winter. Seek fashion advice from Lily on subject.

* * *

><p><strong>AAAH! I have always wanted to bring another magical school into one of my stories, but have never been able to find a way it worked. But here we go, Durmstrang will be pitching up SOOON... however, we are still in September so, of course, it will still be a while. I may start squeezing several days (possibly an entire week) into a chapter otherwise this will be moving TOO slowly!<strong>

**Until next time.**

**Love, Gco. XXX**


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